Season Eight Finale
by 20Waffles20
Summary: Alternate ending to season eight in which Emily Prentiss makes a return to the team. I wrote this before the finale, with absolutely no spoilers. I was no where near to close to how it actually turned out. The whole team is involved.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, this is my alternate ending to season 8. I had the idea a few days before the finale aired, so I went with it. I wrote this without even seeing the preview for the finale, so it is completely different.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Criminal Minds and have no say in the direction of the show, but a girl can dream right?**

**Warning: I've seen people do this on FF, so I thought it might be a good idea. There are mentions of torture, but nothing too gruesome. **

It was a day in the life. Seven people were settled in around a circular table. It had been a rough year, things only just now beginning to reach a level of normalcy. At least, as close to average as the seven of them could get. Blake had settled in, and Reid had finally turned a corner in the grieving process. Though, he had made it quite clear that he still had an expansive journey before him. Dave might have been carrying a little grief as well, at the passing of his ex-wife, but he was Catholic; he was used to guilt. Derek had finally managed to obtain the modicum of closure that he so deserved with Buford. Penelope and Kevin were on good terms, though Kevin had purposefully avoided eye contact with Morgan since bringing a date to J.J.'s wedding. Hotch couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of relief overall. Even he had a good thing going with Beth, long-distance or no. They had all been through a great deal of turmoil, but it seemed that they were nearing the dawn as a whole.

There was one thing though, something that was off kilter. The Replicator, or so they had taken to calling him, was a threat. They knew he was out there, lurking. There was nothing they could do about it. He was active, they were sure of it, but there was no way to know where he was or who his victims were.

Garcia had set up a baffling technological alert system. Countrywide, if there was a murder that fit the M.O. of any case the B.A.U. had ever consulted on, she would know about it in seconds. They'd been ordered to let the case lie as long as he was dormant. No amount of pleading had convinced Strauss to outwardly undermine direct orders, but she'd given them her blessing to continue off Bureau time. She'd even gone as far as to offer her assistance. The only problem? They had no developments, and they wouldn't. Not until he killed again. As much as it pained them, they only had a shot at catching him if he continued to operate. If he continued to copy cases that they had solved. Making his slight taunts all the more venomous.

They were finishing up a routine presentation when the screen flickered. The flash of the screen almost immediately collected the attention of the room's occupants. All of them, that is, except for Penelope Garcia. She was busily typing at her computer, rather more forcefully than usual. One of the others might have noticed if their attentions had not been solely focused on the wall-mounted television. There, in the forefront of a dark room, sat a hooded figure in a chair. They literally dropped everything, whatever was in their grasps. An image like that would always draw consideration from a room full of cops.

"Garcia?" Hotch sounded gruffly, knowing that he didn't need to finish the question for her to understand. He never looked away from the screen.

She continued to type furiously, shaking her head from side to side. "I don't know, sir. Someone has hacked directly into my laptop. I can't get a trace, or disrupt the feed."

His scowl took on a more severe tilt than usual. "Is it being broadcast over the internet, or only to us?"

"Just us, sir." She replied instantaneously.

"Are you recording?" he asked. She only managed to nod as movement on the screen pulled at everyone's eyes again.

Another figure had entered the frame. Rough shape and size would suggest a male, and not a scrawny guy either. He looked like he could be a formidable opponent to either Hotch or Morgan. He was wearing all black, complete with leather gloves and work boots. He walked behind the immobile captive, moving around them like a hungry lion with it's prey splayed out before it. His face was just above the edge of the camera's field of view.

Being the seasoned veteran that he was, Hotch fully expected to hear a deranged manifesto at this juncture. Instead, their ears were met with a low groan. The room was dead silent as they listened intently. The person under the hood stirred, and then visibly tugged at the leather straps that were binding their arms to the chair. In answer, the UnSub threw a swift strike at the unsuspecting victim's head, a guttural cry escaping from the seated person with the impact. As their head dropped forward, the UnSub walked far too casually toward the camera.

Seconds after disappearing from the screen, text appeared over the bottom portion of the video feed. _'I believe you call me the Replicator. Now that I have your undivided attention, I think it's time you see how I really like to play.'_

"Can we respond to that?" Hotch asked, feeling more helpless with each passing second.

"I'm working on it, sir," Penelope started before he even finished the question.

The text continued. _'I'm impressed. You've circled the wagons. Only, you forgot one person.'_ That was unsettling. They had arranged a security detail for all of their family members and close friends as soon as they had determined the threat. Hotch's brain was screaming, racing to figure out how he had screwed up. Who had they forgotten? It wasn't possible. He glanced around the table, easily reading a similar feeling projecting from each of his colleagues.

When Hotch looked back to the screen, the unknown man was stalking back toward the person in the chair. He was relieved, if only for a short moment, as the man walked past them. Then the overhead lights came on, and Hotch's heart sank to his stomach. It looked to be an industrial space, maybe at one point in time it was, but it was derelict now. There were a pair of chains hanging from the ceiling behind the chair, and tables lined the walls on either side. With his limited view, he was almost scared to think about what else could be at the UnSub's disposal. They'd seen their fair share of torture implements, and he was all too familiar with the things that this man could be capable of. He took in his team again, fairly certain that they were about to witness something that could alter them to their cores. He noticed Garcia's tear stained face as she furiously tried to find a way to communicate with the UnSub. He didn't say anything as he turned his steely eyes back to the television.

The man had a cattle prod in hand, a fairly tame instrument considering what he had to choose from. The surprise must have only added to the pain as the person violently convulsed. Five excruciating shocks later; the man let his hand, along with the cattle prod, fall to his side. In one quick motion, he reached up, grabbed the black hood and pulled it from the person's head.

J.J. let out a brief gasp, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. Garcia sat stock still at her laptop, tears streaming silently, while Dave's features took on a greater level of intensity. Morgan tensed as a huff of air left through his nose, and Reid's expression dropped into that of a sad puppy. Everyone was acutely aware of just how far away they were from actually bringing this man to justice. They had resigned themselves to the fact that there would be more victims before they could catch him. Garcia's crying becoming increasingly all consuming, she was rendered ultimately useless. The only people in the room that were not reduced to tears were Blake and Hotch. Blake didn't know her, and Hotch was far too stoic to break down. There was nothing any of them could do.

Emily Prentiss sat in front of them, bound to a wooden chair and gagged.

**A/N: So yes, I still wish the Prentiss character would come back... sue me. I'll be finishing this up before the show airs. Please take a second to let me know if it's cool, or completely dumb!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, a couple of you were quick to respond. Uh, how about a reward? I've got probably four or five more chapters to go. **

Emily watched as the man that had been electrocuting her walked to the camera at the front of the room and closed the laptop it was connected to. Where the hell was she? After taking the mostly administrative position with Interpol, she'd assumed that she would be moderately safe. Apparently she'd assumed wrong. Clyde was going to be pissed. He'd have her head if she managed to make it out of this with her head intact. Taking a deep breath, as deep as she could with the restrictive fabric in her mouth, she tried to clear her mind. She needed to focus on the present. She needed to profile.

There were hundreds of active cases that flew over her desk on a daily basis. Still, she didn't remember seeing any that would match up with this guy. Interpol mostly dealt with international criminals: smuggling, arms dealing, human trafficking and the likes. This man gave off that distinct serial killer vibe that she had grown so accustomed to at the B.A.U. He would have stuck out. Maybe she had just been unfortunate enough to cross paths with an average psychopath. How had he gotten to her? She remembered returning to her apartment's parking garage, and then nothing. Good. That meant that he was on the CCTV in her building. Clyde would go looking for her, and he'd have a place to start. As she watched the UnSub leave the room, she made up her mind. She wouldn't remain idle.

* * *

"Maybe we're looking at this wrong, maybe this is a good thing." Everyone turned to Blake. The team had remained in the conference room after the video feed had been cut, meticulously going over every piece of evidence they had on the Replicator. The tension was palpable. Derek couldn't help the flash of anger that burned through him at Blake's poor choice of words. "If he went after Agent Prentiss, can't we narrow down his stressor with the B.A.U. to when she was still working with you all?"

"Possibly." Reid said after a brief, but what Morgan knew to be a thorough consideration. He found himself easing at the potential breakthrough as the young doctor continued. "She was on the team from November of 2006 to May of 2012. Well, with a seven month hiatus."

"Garcia, I want you to take a closer look at those cases. Reid help her out, see if you can recall anyone or anything off-putting during any of those cases."

Blake's expression turned skeptical. "What about the seven month hiatus?" That turned a few heads, and earned her heated glares from the rest. She swallowed hard. "Could be important to the victimology," she added dejectedly.

"It's not." Rossi was a blunt individual, he held her gaze until she looked away. She either got it, or decided it wasn't worth pressing for the truth and trusted their judgment in that it had nothing to do with the Replicator.

"What about the rest of us?" Morgan asked.

Hotch cleared his throat. "J.J. see if you can get in touch with Easter. We need to coordinate this, we don't even know if she's in the States or not. Morgan, I want you, Blake and Dave working up a consult for the case we are currently assigned to." Morgan stood to protest, but Hotch explained himself before he had the chance. "There's nothing you can do to help right now. The detective still needs a profile. Once the three of you have a working one, get J.J. to forward it." He turned to face J.J. "Let them know we'll get another team out there as soon as possible." He abruptly walked toward the exit after giving his orders.

Derek's brows knitted in confusion. "Where are you goin'?"

Hotch paused with his hand on the door, not turning around. "To call the ambassador." Morgan didn't envy him that conversation.

* * *

She had been beaten before, it was nothing she couldn't handle. Even a couple of broken bones were tolerable, but the electric shocks were where he had her. It took its toll. Her entire body sent into a spasm every time the current flowed through her. She didn't know how long she'd been there or how often he had done it, but at this point, she would have much rather been shot. A bleeding leg wound sounded pretty good to her at the moment. He entered the room again and she shuddered as subtly as possible. He was clearly enjoying the power aspect of the torture, and she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

She'd tried to work out a rough profile in her head, but she had very little to go on. He hadn't spoken a word the entire time. She'd caught him off-guard once, forcefully connecting her forehead with his nose. At least she thought it was his nose. He wore a mask that concealed his face but for a small portion of skin around his eyes and mouth. He must have thought she was too weak to retaliate, but she wasn't about to give up the fight. The head-butt had cost her a broken wrist, but it was worth it. If nothing else, she wouldn't be compliant. Just annoying him made her feel like she was accomplishing something. He might torture her, maybe even kill her, but she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

Emily took a moment to consider the mask. She didn't think he'd have any qualms about killing her. She'd gotten a pretty good view of the tables behind her, and she wasn't too pleased with the contents. He wasn't going to let her out of there alive. The only reason he wore the mask, she concluded, was for whoever was at the receiving end of the camera.

**A/N: You like?... Tell me! lol sleep deprevation is an ugly, ugly thing.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: To the guest reviewer on the first chapter... I'm terribly sorry, but I have attempted to write this like an episode of the show. Though I can totally see Morgan and Prentiss together, well... it ain't gonna happen this time around. My apologies, but I don't think you'll be too disappointed if that's what you're here for.**

**Also, a big thanks to mike91848 for beta-ing basically up to this point. And last minute at that!**

A couple of hours later found Hotch walking back into the conference room. He came face to face with a pair of knowing eyes. "How is the director?" Rossi asked. He could see the barely constrained anger on his friend's face, and he'd never pass up an opportunity to deliver a friendly gibe.

"Reluctantly on board," was the monotone answer from Hotch. "We have Strauss to thank." He clearly wasn't interested in wasting any more time on the subject. "Garcia, what have we got?"

She pulled away from the computer and grabbed her notepad, taking a glance at Blake to make sure that she was ready at the whiteboard before proceeding. "Surprisingly not much of a list of possibles. We've got Johnny McHale."

Morgan jumped in, "The comic book artist that killed the gang members who murdered his pregnant fiancé. We're checking on his status now." He, Rossi and Blake had eagerly offered to help Garcia and Reid after they had finished their task.

"Jind Allah," Reid said picking up the list of suspects again. "He's still being detained in Guantanamo Bay, but it wouldn't be impossible for him to have contacts on the outside."

"But it would be highly improbable." Hotch continued, nodding along. "We burned most of his bridges, and I doubt he could convince anyone to directly attack a team of F.B.I. agents."

"Precisely," Garcia said. "Then there's Nathan Harris. He was released from psychiatric care last year." She delivered this one somberly, as the team had hoped to save that boy before he actually killed anyone. Reid in particular had grown quite close to him. "Then there's the possibility that one of the members of Benjamin Cyrus' creepy cult miss their master." Rossi smiled lightly, there was Garcia's familiar flare. "And J.J. is checking with Easter to make sure that Izzy Rogers is still locked up somewhere."

"What about Karl Arnold?" Hotch asked. Dave suspected that Hotch had felt some remorse about putting Prentiss in that situation after her past with Doyle had come to light.

"Still in maximum security prison, though we're not dismissing the chance of a connection." Reid answered and then went on. "We found out that Lara Heathridge went missing shortly after her brother died. She wasn't exactly mentally sound, but we don't think she'd be capable of something like this."

"Then there's the Company," Morgan started with a regret-laden voice. "The ring of kidnapper's that Malcom Ford was affiliated with, the man that had my cousin." Rossi considered for a moment that, if the Company was involved with this, Morgan would blame himself for everything that's happened.

Blake spoke from her position next to the board. "We also have to consider that it could be any relative or friend of any of the victims in these cases."

Hotch nodded again. "We'll rule out these possibilities first."

"There's another possibility we haven't considered." Dave had waited for Hotch to get back to even speculate on this scenario. "When Matthew Benton died, Emily ruffled some feathers in the Catholic Church."

Hotch narrowed his eyes. "You're seriously postulating that the Catholic Church is attacking the F.B.I.?"

Rossi shrugged. "A modern day crusade?"

With a look of disbelief, Hotch bowed his head. He was clutching the back of one of the chairs, and staring at the floor. "If you wanna run it down, talk to your friends in the church." He looked up, and caught his friend's eye. "Do me a favor though, don't mention the Bureau." Dave bobbed his head in understanding. Aaron had had a difficult time with the politics of the Benton case. "Garcia, start going through the family and friends of victims. Compile a list. The rest of us will work on ruling out the ones we have."

* * *

He entered the room, and he was mad about something. His body language radiated anger. Emily tried to gather herself as he came toward her. A solid punch to the gut, and she was trying hard just to hold on to consciousness. Not being able to breathe sucked.

When she looked up, he was seated behind the computer in front of her. He was typing something, but she hadn't the wherewithal to think about what it could be or why he was typing at all when he had the camera. She'd had enough of this though. She wasn't about to die for some sicko's entertainment. Emily didn't care who was on the other side of the camera, she had no inclination to just sit there and let him kill her.

Within the first few hours of her time there, she'd realized that she could easily slip her right hand through the leather restraint if her thumb was not a factor. She'd been thinking about it since, eyeing a knife on the table to her left. It'd be tricky, getting the strap off of her left arm with a dislocated thumb. Tricky, but doable. Then she'd be left with damage to both arms, with the broken wrist she had incurred earlier, it'd be difficult to defend herself. This guy didn't look all that tough to her though, and considering the alternative…

That was all the convincing she needed. It would be excruciating, and probably cause irreparable damage, but it would be worth it. She took a breath to set her stomach, and rested the tip of her thumb on the arm of the chair briefly before pushing down and to the side. There was a loud pop, and she instinctually sought out her captor to see if he had noticed. He studied her for a long moment before going back to what it was he was doing. She thought it was probably much louder to her.

She let out a puff of air, her eyes clenching shut in pain. A noise drew her back to the present, and she saw him getting up.

* * *

It was early the next morning when Dave finally returned. He walked solemnly to the conference room. He knew that the Catholic Church angle was a reach, but the fact that he hadn't been called back to the Bureau told him that his team hadn't found any actionable leads either. How long would Emily have to be tormented by this UnSub?

He opened the door to another live video feed. He watched on in horror as the man that was holding her captive rushed a partially freed Emily. He was frozen to the spot, he couldn't have moved if he wanted to. He needed to see what happened though. He needed her to beat this guy.

* * *

Emily was hunched awkwardly, partially standing and trying to undo the restraint on her left arm. She heard him coming toward her and flicked her head in his direction. When he grabbed her from behind, she pushed back hard. It was enough to knock him off balance. She looked back again, her eyes lingering just long enough to find a target. Delivering a straight kick to his abdomen for good measure, she went back to her task. After loosening the strap, she settled for jerking her injured arm free from the constraint. She hurriedly ran to the table with the knife and grabbed it. Turning around, she expected to be tackled to the ground but was instead met with an empty room.

She surveyed the area warily before moving to the door. It couldn't be that easy.

* * *

The team probably all felt just as confused as Emily looked. He had just left. When she had pulled her arm free, the UnSub staggered to his feet and ran for the door. It didn't make sense, but that wasn't their priority. Their friend was somewhere, hurt and alone. She needed help. To the dismay of them all, they'd have to wait until she found help or someone found her.

**A/N: Bonus points for anyone who can correctly guess where I got the inspiration for the bad guy!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I do apologize for any mistakes. Thanks for reading! I guess this is me celebrating the finale or something... Enjoy!**

It had been an hour before they had finally gotten the call, and almost another before they reached the hospital. They filed out of the SUV's near the entrance, practically tripping over themselves to get through the doors. Morgan was of course in the lead, eager to make sure that his friend was actually okay. She'd called as soon as she was able to, to let them know that she really was all right, but that hadn't satiated his need to physically lay eyes on her. There are some things that just have to be done in person.

Penelope had a grip on his right arm, which was probably the only reason he hadn't bolted up the stairs and instead opted for the elevator. As they spun around to face the control panel, Morgan spared a moment to study his team as they boarded along with him. They were close behind, with Blake brining up the rear. He thought this was probably awkward for her, visiting someone in the hospital that she had never met. Someone that was so close to the rest of the team.

They were met with an obstacle in the form of the lone nurse that was manning the station. Though she initially bristled at the idea of letting non-family members into a patient's room, she quickly backed down when seven F.B.I. badges were presented without delay. Morgan hadn't realized just how worried he had been until he found himself stopped just in front of the door to Prentiss' room. The others paused as well, probably out of confusion as to what the holdup was. It was only a light nudge from Penelope, who was still attached to his arm, which broke through his nervousness.

* * *

She couldn't keep herself from being a bit nervous. It had been months since Emily had seen any of them. She had actually cried when Derek's brief stint with Scotland Yard had come to an end, when he and Penelope had left to return to D.C. It was irrational, she knew, but these people were her family. They were the only real family she had ever known. She hadn't realized just how much she had missed them until she had spoken to Hotch on the phone.

They had already been on the way when she called, but she knew that they would be worried. She knew Penelope. She hadn't braced herself for the watery eyes of Derek Morgan though. Her former team poured into the small room, all seemingly desperate for an embrace of any kind. For Garcia, it was a full on hug. She had even beaten out Morgan. He stood to the side, behind Garcia and in front of the window. J.J. had been quick to slide up the opposite side of the bed, caressing her friend's arm just above the cast covering the lower portion. A somber Reid moved to stand next to Morgan, while an exuberant Rossi had one hand on Garcia's back and the other clasping Emily's right leg firmly. He was one of those people, she thought, he needed the physical contact to know that she was okay. Hotch came to stand by J.J. with an uncharacteristic smile lighting up his face. He was also the first one to speak. "Welcome back, Prentiss."

She smiled almost shyly. "I know I could have just picked up a phone, but what can I say?" Shaking her head, feigning annoyance with her actions, she continued. "I guess I just missed the action at the B.A.U."

"That better not be all you missed." She turned to see Derek moving toward her. He enveloped her in a hug, and she couldn't stop the tear that broke free and fell lightly down her face. He pulled away, and she quickly wiped the evidence from her cheek.

"How long do you have to be in here? There's no serious damage, I hope." Hotch asked. There was a sense of urgency to his tone, and she knew exactly why. He was far too professional and caring to ask it outright, but he wanted the information she had gleaned from her time with the UnSub.

"Dislocated thumb," she said holding up her right hand as proof. That was the worst of her injuries, but she'd have some after effects from the use of the cattle prod as well. It was nothing too serious. "They said that there appears to be no permanent damage to the Neurovascular system in the region, only some swelling. They relocated it, and they don't think there is any damage to the ligaments. Just that maybe they were a little hyperextended. I had them just do a local block so that I could be coherent for this. I have to wear this splint, and then come back in a couple of weeks so they can check everything out again. I can leave as soon as they double check their findings."

"What about the arm?" Morgan asked, pointing to the cast.

"I'll have the cast for a month or so." When she turned to address Derek, she noticed how pale Reid seemed to look. She realized he hadn't attempted to greet her either. He was obviously worried, but must have not known what to say or do. She could fix that. "They said it's a distal radius fracture?" Leaving the sentence in a questioning inflection was a surefire way to goad Dr. Reid out of silence.

He visibly perked up, his voice breaking in the slightest as he began. "It's better known as a Colles' fracture in lay. It's a very common injury in which the Ulna, the bigger of the two bones in your arm, is broken near the base of the hand. You should be on pain medication though, and given that you've been admitted, they should have hooked you up to a morphine drip."

Emily smiled brightly. That, she had missed profusely. "Yeah, I told them not to. I wanna get this out of the way, as quickly as possible, so we can catch this guy." She looked around as they all nodded their understanding, and officially switched back into business mode. For the first time, she noticed the unfamiliar face in the room.

She must have been staring, because the other woman spoke. "S.S.A. Alex Blake," she introduced herself.

Instead of a handshake, Prentiss gave her a friendly nod. "Emily Prentiss, but Emily will suffice." She cleared her throat. "I guess we should start then. I'm afraid I can't give you all that much. Whoever he was, he didn't speak a word the entire time I was conscious."

"Not once?" Dave asked, curiosity radiating from him. "You were with him for almost three days." Emily's brow furrowed. "Easter confirmed your date of disappearance."

She hesitated. She had thought that maybe she'd been with him for a day. "No. He must have sedated me for the trip to the U.S. I have no recollection of it at all. I didn't even know I was stateside until I found the cop."

"What about a description?" J.J. queried.

A sudden thought pushed to the front of her mind. "There was a camera. He must have been sending the feed to you all, right?"

That question earned a sympathetic head tilt from J.J. "Yes, but his head was out of the frame." There was a beat of silence before she added in a small voice, "we saw some of what he did to you."

"Oh." Emily had a far away look in her eyes. "Sorry." She shook her head and pressed on. "He wore a mask the entire time. It was black leather, and tied up in the back like a corset. I kept thinking how uncomfortable it must have been to wear. I saw his eyes, but…" She trailed off. She didn't have difficulty remembering it, but had difficulty believing it. "They were black."

"That's impossible," Reid chimed in. "People having black irises is a myth. It's just a dark shade of brown."

"No," Emily's eyes widened, "they were black. And it's not in my imagination so don't start. I saw them, and they were pitch black. I suppose it could have been contact lenses, but they were black." That had obviously bothered her far more than she would want to admit.

"That doesn't make sense." Hotch spoke, but a wave of red washed over his face. He clearly hadn't meant to speak aloud.

Emily found herself grinning lightly. "I know," she said, sitting up a little. "Why go to so much trouble to hide your identity from someone you're going to kill?"

A knock at the door drew their attention. A nurse stood in the threshold, a wheelchair at the ready. "We need to take Miss Prentiss for a follow up x-ray." The team slowly dissolved from the room. Not before J.J. promised to start the discharge process, and make sure to get a prescription for painkillers.

**A/N: All medical knowledge comes from high school anatomy and medical dramas. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't know who this "Guest" reviewer is, but I like you... like, a lot. **

**So, since the finale didn't air in Canada tonight, I waited to update. I'll post the sixth and final chapter sometime tomorrow. Thank you all for reading.**

It was weird. Emily was in a place that she was overly familiar with, but it felt completely foreign. The conference room hadn't changed in the least, and yet it was staggeringly different. She mindlessly went to her seat, and blushed a bit as Blake reached it first. Emily unconsciously closed her eyes for an instant, hiding the hurt that the unintentional slight had caused. "Sorry," she mumbled breathlessly.

"Oh no, please?" Blake said, gesturing to the chair.

Emily just shook her head. "I don't wanna impose."

"You're injured," Blake said adamantly.

Emily caved and took the seat. They had filled her in on the Replicator during the ride to Quantico, giving her every detail. "You all made sure that the boys are all right, your families?" she asked, looking around the room.

"Yeah," J.J. answered reassuringly. "Everyone's fine."

"We didn't think you'd be in any danger." All eyes went to Hotch after his words. "That's why we didn't arrange a detail for you, we thought he'd stay on this continent."

Emily took a moment to think about what he had said before responding. That was probably the closest thing to an apology that anyone had ever gotten from the man. Everyone was focused on her now, waiting for a reply of some kind. "I get it," she went with simple and truthful. "But for future reference, I wouldn't mind the occasional false alarm, 'hey there might be a psycho trying to kill you'." The tense moment disintegrated as the room filled with laughter. The atmosphere had loosened, and the conference room finally felt a bit more like she remembered it. The laughter died down as everyone got situated for what was sure to be a long night.

* * *

After hours of pouring over old case files for the umpteenth time, it finally struck Reid. "Of all the cases that we've ever worked, there have only been two in which a local cop has been killed while working the case with us." He had disturbed the quiet that had settled in the room, but everyone seemed to be greatly intrigued by his opening statement. He was rather interested himself, talking almost as fast as he was figuring it out. "Detective Ware, and Officer Brown." Hotch had a baffled expression, so he felt the need to explain himself from the beginning. "Hotch, earlier you told me to look for anything off-putting in the cases that we had worked with Emily."

"Where are you going with this, Kid?" Morgan cut him off.

Reid dismissed the thinly veiled skepticism, remembering that Derek had bonded with Detective Ware. "The UnSub, the Replicator, could be someone that was affected by one of their deaths."

"Alright," Rossi was nodding in understanding. "He blames us because we're the F.B.I. We should have been in control of the situation, and no one else should have gotten hurt." It was an easy enough concept. "What about Ware's family?" He had directed the question to Morgan. Apparently Reid wasn't the only one who had noticed the brief friendship.

"His widow and two young sons?" Derek began defensively. "They don't have anything to do with this, no way. Ware was a good man."

Dave straightened in his chair. "I'm not suggesting otherwise, just that someone he knew might be out for revenge."

Hotch rubbed at his temple. "What about Officer Brown? I don't remember him." Reid thought that it was more of an attempt to defuse the testosterone infused spat than anything else, but Hotch had asked. "When Dave and I drove to Philadelphia to examine the contents of a storage locker based on the request from Agent Jill Morris." He only stopped when Hotch signaled that he had enough information to recall the case.

"Wait," Morgan stood up quickly. "When was that?"

"About five years ago," Reid announced without really even thinking about it. "Why?"

"The Donny Bidwell case." Morgan was evidently on to something as he raced to the other side of the table and lifted the lid of Garcia's laptop. "Baby Girl, I need to know who Officer Brown's partner was when he died."

She went to work without the slightest hesitation. "Um, Officer Brown's first name?"

"Murphy," Reid supplied easily.

"Got it," she nearly shouted. "His partner at the time was an Officer Michael Rizzo."

"It's him," Morgan said. "Rizzo's our guy." He looked as though he didn't believe it himself. Then he continued. "The Bidwell case a couple months back." At this point, he was almost pleading for someone else to remember.

"Detective Rizzo," Dave caught up to him. "He did posture more than the average lead local when we met with his commanding officer in Philadelphia."

"It's not just that." Morgan was pacing back and forth now, adrenaline getting the better of him. Reid thought that this must be what he looked like all the time when he recalled something, and then he found himself hoping that he was wrong about that. Derek appeared to be on the verge of manic as he pieced together the clues. "He confided in me that the reason he was so opposed to the B.A.U.'s involvement was that his partner had gotten killed working a federal case. He said that it had happened five years ago." He slammed a fist down on the table and Reid raised his eyebrows. He definitely never did that. "I saved that son of a bitch."

"We don't know that it's him yet," J.J. reminded. "This is just a theory, there's no actual evidence."

"Yeah there is," Emily stated flatly. "I'm fairly certain I broke that bastard's nose."

Hotch must not have been sold on the idea yet. "How did Brown die?"

Garcia answered promptly. "Says here that he was interviewing a potential suspect for our case, and things went south. South, as in the suspect had lots of guns."

"So we go to Philadelphia and what, check-in with Rizzo?" Blake asked. "It's a three hour drive, and this might not even pan out."

"Just under an hour on the jet," Rossi bargained.

**A/N: No guesses on the bad guy's origins? **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: There's a ridiculously long author's note at the end of this short chapter in which I explain myself, or at least try to. Feel free to ask questions, or harangue me about botched details. I like criticism of any kind.**

Penelope had stayed at Quantico, under strict instructions to not leave the building. Much to her lament, Emily had remained in the SUV just outside the Philadelphia station house. It had taken some convincing, but in the end she was injured and held no law enforcement authority in the United States. J.J. was there too, both keeping her company and protecting her. The others had gone into the building, trying not to appear too predatory. However, all bets went out the window when they ran into Detective Rizzo. He had two black eyes, and a freshly broken nose that was more than likely the culprit behind the bruising.

Morgan lunged at the man, and Hotch couldn't completely condemn the action. Once Morgan had the homicide detective pinned against the wall with a firm grip on the man's suit jacket, the full attention of the remaining members of the precinct was on them. It was late, but there were still quite a few bodies in the room.

"Agent Morgan?" Rizzo spoke with a deep Philly accent. "What the hell are you doing?" He wasn't struggling, and that struck Hotch as odd.

"You're under arrest," Derek answered in a low tone. An officer that had approached backed off slightly, and Hotch couldn't tell if it was the words or Morgan's sheer intensity that had caused it. He proceeded to unceremoniously flip Rizzo around, and then reached for his cuffs.

"For what?" Rizzo asked. He was still far too calm.

Morgan looked disgusted. They had practically caught the man red-handed, so Hotch understood the sentiment. Derek answered him anyway. "Abduction, torture and the murders of at least three individuals for starters."

"Where's your proof?" Rizzo demanded knowingly. Morgan's jaw clenched. "I haven't seen any evidence," Rizzo carried on, unflustered.

He was right, every thing they had was circumstantial. "Look at your face, man." Morgan tried anyway, there was always a possibility that Rizzo would slip up.

"You ask anybody here," Rizzo was growing cocky now. "I put a stop to an attempted robbery at a convenience store. I was off-duty last night, right place right time I guess."

That settled it. There wasn't a doubt in Hotch's mind, and he was pretty sure the others were on the same page. Detective Michael Rizzo was the Replicator, but they didn't have a shred of evidence to prove it.

* * *

They walked briskly from the police department. Morgan got into the SUV with J.J. and Emily, while the other four jumped into the one parked in front of them. The two women knew better than to question him in the state that he was in. They drove quickly back to the airstrip, to the jet. Not a word was spoken until they were all safely within the confines of the airplane.

"What happened?" Emily asked to no one in particular, but was eyeing Morgan.

"We don't have any evidence and he called us out on it," Hotch replied curtly.

"What about his eyes?" Emily demanded. "That must be rare, right? That would be more than circumstantial evidence."

"It's not possible." Reid looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, but it's just not. He did have very dark brown eyes though, or he could have been wearing colored contacts like you suggested earlier." Deep down she knew that he was right, it was Reid, but she was still disappointed by the fact.

"So what," J.J. began, "we just let him go? Give up?"

"No," it appeared that Morgan had finally calmed down. "We keep an eye on him, and we wait for him to screw up."

"That's why he let me go when I got the upper hand." Her eyes shifted from side to side as Emily figured out what had been bugging her since her escape. "He wanted to draw this out. He cut his losses because he was more interested in the longevity of his revenge."

**A/N: AH! Sorry if you were expecting a more neatly packaged conclusion. I do think that the season will end like this. Maybe not that they know the bad guy's identity, but I think it's too big of a plot line to wrap it up in the finale. (Edit: I was a little disappointed. I thought we were just getting started with the big baddy.)**

**I do realize that Rizzo was probably just a red herring, but he said some weird things. Btw, he's from the season eight episode 'Carbon Copy'. The medical Examiner in that episode also gave me the creeps (Maybe they're in cahoots?). I made up Rizzo's first name, and Officer Brown, but he did tell Derek about his partner. And the team WAS in Philadelphia five years ago, that episode was entitled 'Limelight'. I thought that was interesting, but probably just a coincidence.**

**I did omit some of the other cops that have died while working with the team, but I couldn't remember all of them.**

**I'm excited for this closer! Feel free to come back, after you've watched it, and ridicule me!**

**…I've thought about this entirely too much.**

**The UnSub was based off of the creepy killer in the movies The Collector and The Collection. Josh Stewart (Will LaMontagne) stars in them, and you should check them out if you're into scary movies.**


End file.
